Mended Hearts (New Beginnings Series) (6 page)

Gracie held up the campfire shot. “I know this is you. And this is Trace. Who’s the guy with
the Howdy Doody red hair?”

“That’s my other best friend, Charley. That picture was taken behind Trace and Meg’s beach house. Every so often they throw some fun parties out there.” He took the photo from her and studied it. “I can’t tell you how much I miss those guys.”

Gracie reached over and squeezed his shoulder. She started studying the third photo.

“That’s my SEAL team
.” She could hear the pride in his voice.

He handed the beach photo back to her and she glanced at it again. They looked so happy it made her smile. “What does Charley do?”

Sonny looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she answered holding up the SEAL team picture, “I know you and Trace are SEALs. But, what does Charley do?”

“He’s a SEAL.” Sonny still looked confused. “He’s on our team too.” He pulled the photo out of her hand and pointed to an intense man, kneeling in the center of the shot. “That’s him, right there.”

Gracie took the photo, held it closer to her face and studied it. “No way. That can’t be the same guy.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“This goofy red-headed guy is
also this scary, intense ‘I’d-as-soon-kill-you-as-look-at-you’ guy?”

Sonny laughed hysterically. “I can’t wait to tell him about this conversation. This will make his year!”

“I just can’t believe it.” She shook her head.

“He’s on the job in that picture. He’s just Charley in this one.”

“Well . . . looking at you in that photo, I don’t feel I know you, either. Game faces on, I guess.”

“Pretty much.”

She took the photos back into the kitchen and put them where she’d found them. She grabbed her glass off the counter, and went back to sit on the sofa next to Sonny. She kicked off her flip-flops and pushed them under the table, curled her feet under her and turned toward him.

“So, Luca, I meant to ask . . . how are your grandparents?”

“They’re both gone now.”

She looked stricken. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I knew she had cancer, but she was always such an Energizer bunny, I guess I never thought she wouldn’t beat it.”

Sonny smiled wistfully. “Well, Gran did good. She fought for almost five years. She made it easier for me and Gramp—never let us get too down about it. She went with dignity and peace. I don’t think I have as much courage as she did.”

“What about your grandfather?”

“I lost him a couple of years after Gran. We thought he had some kind of bug he couldn’t shake. Turns out he had cancer too. He didn’t linger too long after we got the diagnosis, and I always thought he just let himself go . . . to be with her. It was sad how much he missed her. Not that he ever talked about it. But I could tell.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. There wasn’t much else she could say except . . . “Do you know what I remember about your granddad?
Remember that time you and Matty found that bird’s nest under the tree with all the baby birds in it? And the mama was nowhere to be found. He taught you how to nurse those little birds until they got big enough to fly away. Then he put that nest up on a branch and stood back, willing those birds to jump out of the nest by flapping his arms. Like he was showing them how it was done. I never laughed so hard in my life. But it may have been the sweetest thing I ever saw too. He was a wonderful person.”

Sonny started laughing until his eyes teared. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“And I remember your grandmother’s Christmas cookies. She brought them over every year. She knew how much I loved them. I got the chicken pox one summer and was stuck in bed and she brought me Christmas cookies—in mid-July. I’m talking cookies shaped like Christmas trees and angels and snowmen—all iced in red and green, white and yellow with sprinkles. Boy, did that make me feel special.”

“Really? I never knew that.”

Gracie stretched her leg out and nudged him with her toes, tipped in the same deep purple as her fingers, a dainty ankle bracelet around her ankle. “That’s probably because she had to bake them on the sly so you and Matty wouldn’t steal my get-well cookies.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

Gracie was looking at something behind him. “Hey, Luca, when was the last time you freshened the water in your flowers?”

“What?”

She nodded toward the large window sill behind the dining table which held several get-well-soon flower arrangements, as well as a couple of potted plants and a balloon bouquet that had lost most of its helium and was drifting toward the floor.

“Oh. I didn’t know I was supposed to
,” he admitted as he looked over his shoulder at them.

Gracie stood up and walked over to them. “Are you finished with your newspaper, or do you save it?”

He looked more perplexed. “I’m finished with it.”

She took it over to the dining table and started pulling out dead blossoms
, placing them on the spread out paper. One by one she took the vases over to the sink, drained the water and refilled them. She shuffled the flowers around and made them look like new—less full, of course, but like brand new arrangements. When she’d finished with that she poked her fingers into the soil of the plants, tsked tsked, and watered those too.

Sonny watched in amazement. “Wow. I thought I was just supposed to look at them until they died. No one gave me instructions.”

Gracie laughed and rushed toward him as he started pulling himself up off the couch leaning on his crutches. “Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get a fresh ice pack.”

“Here. Sit back down.” She held her hand out for the old one, placed it back in the freezer and pulled out another one. “Do want more tea?”

A little embarrassed, he picked up his glass and handed it to her. “Thanks.”

She rolled up the dead flowers in the newspaper, stuffed them in the trashcan and wiped the table down. She brought him his tea, fluffed the pillows under his knee, and placed the ice pack on it. Just after she’d refreshed her soda and sat back down next to him there was a knock on the door.

A little voice called out, “Hey, Sonny!”

Gracie looked over at him as he answered, “Come on in, Drake!”

The door burst open and a little body came barreling in and launched itself on Sonny.

“Whoa! Slow down, buddy,” Sonny laughed.

A tall strawberry blonde walked through the door
. Her legs, tanned and toned, appeared to be miles long beneath royal blue athletic shorts. She was wearing a gold t-shirt with “Scorpions” emblazoned in blue across the front. The little boy was wearing the same colors and was dressed for a soccer game with shin guards on his skinny little legs.

The woman winced.
“Drake! Don’t! Remember Sonny has a hurt knee. Be careful.”

Gracie was confused.
Sonny?
About that time the woman noticed Gracie sitting on the sofa and studied her curiously.

At the mention of Sonny’s knee, Drake had
glanced down to look at it, worry lines between his little brows. “But not shot with a gun . . . right, Sonny?” It was obvious he was thinking about his daddy.

Sonny pulled the little boy up next to him on the sofa
and tenderly smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “That’s right, Drake . . . not shot. I just fell into a rock. I can be pretty clumsy sometimes.” When he saw the worry leave Drake’s eyes, he changed the subject. “So, tell me . . . how did the Scorpions do this afternoon?”

Drake grinned a gap-toothed grin. “We lost, but I almost scored a goal.”

“Well, you can’t ask for more than that. Next time it’ll go in. I just know it.”

The woman looked a little uncertain as she
observed the cozy pair on the couch. She glanced toward Gracie, noticing her bare feet and her glass sitting on the table next to his. “Sorry for not calling, Sonny, but Drake wanted to come by and show you his model.”

“That’s okay. Jenna, this is my friend, Gracie. We
knew each other as kids. Gracie, this is my XO’s wife, Jenna, and her son, Drake. He’s my friend who had the off the chain birthday party yesterday.”

Drake giggled
as Gracie wished him a happy birthday and greeted Jenna.

Drake
pulled a model car from under his arm to show Sonny. It was obviously a very simple snap-together model for very young children. “Look, Sonny! I already finished it.”

“Wow! You must have stayed up all night
to get it done,” Sonny exclaimed, as he took it from the boy and studied it carefully, then handed it back.

Drake
giggled again. “No-o-o . . . Mommy wouldn’t let me do
that
. I had to rest up for my game.”

“Well then, I guess you’re just a genius model builder.” He ruffled Drake’s sweat-
tousled hair. “Hey, Mom, see that bag over there beside the door? That’s a model I bought to do myself, but I think I need to have this highly gifted engineer do it for me.”

Drake ran over to pull a box out of the toy store bag. “Wow! Can I, Mommy?”

Jenna shook her head at Sonny. “Sure, honey. You build it for Sonny and we’ll bring it back to him when you’re finished.”

“No, you need to keep it at your house, so I have one to play with next time I come over,” Sonny said.

Jenna looked tenderly at Sonny, and Gracie could tell this was family. She felt a little uncomfortable, as if she were an intruder.

Jenna said with a smile, “Well, I was going to ask if you needed anything, but I can see everything is under control here. It’s nice to meet you
, Gracie.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jenna.
And Drake, good job on the car!”

“Thank you,” the little boy said politely.

“Come on, Drake . . . we have to go. Let’s let Sonny get some rest now.”

“No! Maybe Sonny can help with the model,” Drake wheedled.

“No, honey . . . we have to go pick up Mikey and the baby from Grandma’s. We’re already running late and Grandma has bingo tonight.” She rolled her eyes at Sonny and Gracie.

“Okay.” Drake dragged his feet toward the door.

Sonny called out, “Maybe my knee will be better next week and I can come to your game. Okay?”

That perked the little boy up. “Okay!”

Jenna walked over and brushed her lips across his cheek. “Thanks, Sonny,” she said softly.

Sonny looked into her eyes and answered
, just as softly, “I know it’s not the same.”

“
It means a lot, though.” She straightened up, winked at Gracie and followed Drake toward the door. “You know you can call if you need anything, Sonny.”

He laughed. “I know. But I won’t have to call, because you and the others are just going to show up anyway.”

“This is true,” Jenna replied as she shut the door behind her.

“Wow. That’s your family, huh?” Gracie asked.

He smiled tenderly. “Yeah. For someone with no family, I sure have a big family. They’ve all been great.”

“I think they’d say you’ve been great to them too.” She
twisted around, turning toward him as the curiosity got the best of her. “So ‘Sonny,’ huh? Who’s Sonny?”

“’Sonny’ is Luca Ionescu’s SEAL nickname,” he laughed.

“And why ‘Sonny’?” she asked.

“Well . . . that’s not really important . . .”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “You can’t get away with that. Why ‘Sonny’?”

“I can’t really recall. I got it so long ago . . . way back during BUD/S.” He tried to look baffled, but he could tell she wasn’t buying it.

“Yeah, and that’s been what? Three or four years ago?” she prodded.

“Almost five.”

“Well, that’s a lifetime!” she joked. “Come on. Spill it. You know you want to get it off your chest. It’ll be like therapy.”

“Okay, fine.
When I got to BUD/S all the guys thought I looked too young. They said I was a pretty boy, like I should just ring out and join some boy band or something. Which is
totally
not true. Apparently the nickname ‘Junior’ was taken and I ended up with ‘Sonny.’ After about a week, I just quit fighting it. I’ve been Sonny ever since. And I worked my butt off to dispel my pretty boy image.”

Gracie studied his face for a long time, making him uncomfortable. “I can see the boy band thing. Kind of dreamy, actually.”

“Stop it,” he snorted.

She laughed. “So what am I supposed to call you? Luca or Sonny?”

He quirked his eyebrow at her. “You can call me whatever you want to.” Then he laughed along with her.

“You’re not flirting with me, are you?” she giggled.

“Maybe.”

Her smile faded and
he felt the temperature between them drop a few degrees. She looked away and he wondered what he’d done wrong, but was afraid to ask.

He cleared his throat—then changed the subject. “We never picked a movie.” He reached for the TV remote.